Once in a Lifetime(63)

They went to the Love Shack.

Aubrey was halfway through a tall, cold beer when Pastor Mike walked in the front door and headed to a table. He stopped short at the sight of Aubrey at the bar and then changed direction and headed straight for her.

Crap. She shoved her beer so that it was in front of Ben and lifted her hands the way a basketball player did when he’d just fouled but was trying to pretend he hadn’t.

“Aubrey,” Pastor Mike said, calm and quiet as ever, but the concern and worry were there in his eyes as he took in the two beers in front of Ben. He glanced at Ben, nodded, and then his attention came back to her. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good. Really,” she added.

He nodded. “And you know you can call me.”

“Yes,” she said emphatically. “I know I can call you.”

“Anytime.”

“Anytime,” she repeated, adding what she hoped was a confidence-boosting nod. “Thank you.”

When he’d walked way, she blew out a breath, belatedly realizing Ben was looking at her. “What?” she asked.

“Anything you want to tell me?”

“Such as…?”

“Well, either you’re having a fling with Pastor Mike or he thinks you’re an alcoholic.”

Aubrey grimaced. She wasn’t sure which excuse to go with. “Maybe I found God.”

Ben just looked at her.

She racked her brain, but there really wasn’t a good option. “Okay, I didn’t know how to tell you, but Pastor Mike and I are madly in love.”

Ben shook his head. “Don’t ever play poker.”

Damn it. “Okay, so he thinks I’m an alcoholic.”

“Well, I guess that’s better than your sleeping with him,” Ben said.

Interesting that that would bug him.

“Why would he think you’re an alcoholic?” he asked.

“It’s…complicated.”

A laugh gusted out of him. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Oh, like you’re a piece of cake,” she said, and crossed her arms, insulted. “You know what? I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Do you ever?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not exactly Mr. Talkative yourself, you know. You’re always sticking your nose in my business about the list and all, but you’re holding on to plenty of secrets yourself.”

He tossed back his drink and set it down. Then he stood up and held out his hand. “Come on.”

She looked at him, suddenly wary. “Where to?”

“Chicken?” he asked quietly.

How was it that he knew all her buttons? “Of course not.”

“So then…” He waggled his fingers.

She stared at them and then, with a sigh, let him pull her up.

He brought her to his place. Jack’s side of the duplex was dark. So was Ben’s, until he unlocked and opened the front door, reached in, and turned on a light.

“What are we doing here?” she asked, hesitating on the front step. Nothing good was going to come of stepping inside.

Okay, scratch that. Everything good would come of it, but—

“I want to show you something.”

“Oh, boy, I know this game,” she said with a lightness she didn’t feel.

He smiled. “Something else.”

“What?”

He looked at her for a long moment. “Okay, but after I show you, I don’t want you to get all weird and try to close yourself off.”

“I don’t do that.”

He gave her a long look.

“Fine,” she said, caving. “I totally do that. It’s my thing.”

“Don’t do it to me,” he said very seriously, very solemnly.

She stared into his eyes, butterflies bouncing around inside her now. “All right.”

“Promise.”

“Seriously?” She sighed when he didn’t budge. “Okay, I promise not to shut you out. Jeez, I didn’t know you had such tender feelings.”

He out-and-out laughed at that, and then pulled her through the living room to the kitchen. There, he shoved open a door that led to his garage.

He gave her a look that made an odd feeling begin to course through her. Nerves. Then he flipped on the light, and she gasped at the beautiful handmade wooden dollhouse.





Chapter 23



Heart pounding, Aubrey walked to the dollhouse and ran her fingers over the meticulously handcrafted wood. It was beautiful. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there before she felt Ben’s hand run down her back.

“I don’t have any tissues,” he said, “but you can use my shirt if you want.”

She let out a laugh to hide her sob. “Why? Why did you do this?”

His hand was still on her. He was stroking her as though he just liked the feel of her beneath his hand, but it didn’t escape her notice that he didn’t answer.

With an unsteady breath, she touched the dollhouse again. It was a three-story Victorian, as hers had been when she was a child. Unlike that one, however, this dollhouse was made entirely of wood—no plastic or cardboard anywhere—and it was of heirloom quality. If she’d been a child, she’d have spent hours having her dolls run up and down the spiral staircase, peek out the numerous windows, and swing open the front door. “Thank you,” she whispered. Ali and Leah were right. Her gut was right. She needed to tell him why he was on the list.